Mouth Piece 9. Time on the teeth
I am now so convinced the mouth is a self-righting environment that I believe it might cope even with a highly processed diet, so long as it is kept clean and allowed time to recover between eating bouts. A prolonged acid mouth pH makes tooth rot inevitable; but a sustained neutral mouth pH makes tooth rot physically impossible.
No one on this site needs lessons in toothcare; but allow me to scratch at the subject for a while, to help me edge towards a theory that less toothcare (and less money spent on dental services!) might be not only possible but preferable—so long as we eat healthily. As my latest heroine May Mellanby wrote:
“There is indeed evidence that hygiene practices are of little importance in preventing or arresting tooth decay, although the esthetic value of the toothbrush cannot be denied” (“Diet and the teeth: an experimental study”, Medical Research Council, 1929). She came to that conclusion both from her experiments and from studying the geographical distribution of tooth decay, which revealed populations with low tooth decay that used neither toothbrush nor toothpaste but which did eat foods rich in calcium, phosphorous, and fat-soluble vitamins.
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The obvious way to remove plaque from the teeth is to brush regularly. I am not sure even that dental products are necessary. True, toothpaste contains agents to help enamel remineralise, but saliva can achieve that on its own provided the diet contains calcium and phosphorous, which are in most whole foods.
Alas, when I was growing up at home and eating processed food, I cleaned my teeth only in the morning. At boarding school, where my dental health improved, we were made to clean them twice a day and inspected in the evening by a ferocious nurse with a torch (who also scrutinised our knees, heels, and, I think, moral fibre.) Not till I reached my fifties did I start brushing my teeth after all meals, in a desperate rearguard action against rampant deterioration in the gnashers department. I also took up flossing, gargling with the stiffest mouthwash this side of sulphuric acid, and using an electric toothbrush so big it felt like sticking a miniature carwash in my mouth. In truth, though I talked with shame of the state of my teeth, by the time I started my low-carb diet—which quickly changed everything—no one could have accused me of poor dental hygiene. I rolled up my sleeves every night and went at my teeth hammer and tongs, with the frenzied paranoia of a medieval housewife scrubbing every nook and cranny of her dwelling against plague and damnation.
Now that my dental health is reborn, I am back to cleaning my teeth just twice a day, and lightly, with only a soft toothbrush. I deploy a dental pick when something is stuck in my teeth. I may briefly chew dental gum after meals. And that is it. No flosses, dental tape, whiteners, breath fresheners, tongue scrapers, mouthwashes—no toothbrushes hard enough to take rust off an iron gate.
I suspect I could with little harm give up daily toothcare altogether, so sure am I now that the mouth can clean and repair itself. Primitive man lacked our dental practices, yet, according to archaeology, his teeth, like those of wild animals, stayed rot free, though they did get very worn down. I am sure, however, that early people used toothpicks, etc. to dislodge fragments of food, such as half acorns, scorpion legs, and the like.
When I was in the boy scouts, we were taught how to clean our teeth with a frayed twig in case of emergencies, for instance an enemy siege. It would be obtuse for me now to forgo my toothbrush just to prove a point. I continue with my brush and toothpick because, as May Mellanby acknowledged, aesthetics come into the picture. No one wants to gad about with a shred of tomato skin stuck out of their front railings like a red flag of neglect.
Even in a healthy mouth, kept at an ideal pH, the occasional stab of tooth or gum pain occurs. For me, it is when a particle of food gets trapped between my rear teeth and gums. In such cases, the area beneath the object becomes sealed off from the cleansing wash of saliva, so the pH in that micro zone becomes acidic, enabling bacteria to grow and rot to set in. For this reason alone, brushing is worthwhile, plus the precision use of a pick. Nonetheless, when I brush my teeth at bedtime, I am surprised--particularly as a nut eater--how few visible particles of food appear in my toothpaste spit. In the absence of plaque, little food seems to adhere, even to my damaged back teeth, which resemble the walls of Constantinople just after Suleiman the Magnificent's bombardment.
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Though I believe the mouth’s self-cleaning mechanisms could cope even with sucrose, that would depend on sufficient intervals between eating episodes, to allow the saliva to neutralise again and whack the plaque. When, however, people constantly snack on processed food, their saliva stays acidic all day: under such circumstances, their teeth
will be damaged. Plaque builds up hour by hour, sucking ever more sugar into itself, and where it lies against the teeth becomes a hive of bacteria and acid production.
So I think the danger lies not in
how much sugar we eat but in
the time sugar spends on the teeth (there are studies showing this). If we eat sugar, we should clean the teeth after doing so—including during the day—and make sure not to undo the benefit by popping jelly babies, chocolate drops, or whatever, every five minutes. No need to whip out an electric toothbrush in the middle of the office. A stick of dental gum—any sugar-free gum—will do a quick job of buffering the saliva, and the day will be saved. If we do not usually eat refined sugar—as I do not—such precautions are rarely needed. In fact, I daresay we nutritional paragons
might abandon the larger part of toothcare yet retain our dental health. Humans are designed, like all animals, to let nature take care of their teeth.